We have taken to calling them The Babies. What are The Babies doing? What are they eating?
What are they getting into?
They have decided that perhaps they do like each other. This idea occurred to both of them over a cardboard box.
And I think the silent conversation went a little like this:
"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. This cardboard thing is so neat to rip apart." Gibson the puppy is wildly tearing into the flap of the box. Stops when I yell at him and then continues as soon as I turn my back.
It's a bit difficult to get the laundry done with both Babies awake and ready to find trouble.
Baby Blueberry eyes the puppy from across the room. Her brow is furrowed tightly and I'm not sure what she thinks of this strange mutt who has invaded her space. And tries to eat her toys.
Rip. A flap is totally torn off the box and is being shaken like some dead prey.
"Gibson." I yell as the box slowly starts to fall apart, the contents threatening to jump ship. Not realizing that the waters are dangerous and if they should leave the safety of the box they will become a doggie toy.
I shoo him away and try to fold my box back up into shape. It's floppy and torn and is mortally wounded. I will have to find another box.
The second I turn my back, the fierce creature stalks his prey again and pounces on the poor defenseless box.
"Oh boy, I know that lady is going to yell again but this box is so GOOD." The Gibson puppy thinks as he starts ripping the box into tiny bits.
And that's when Baby Blueberry decides this puppy is fun. She quickly crawls over to the little bits of cardboard starting to litter the ground and wants to eat them. I swear he rips it up faster now that she has crawled over to him and tries to join in. A piece goes right in the mouth.
"No, Baby Girl you can't eat cardboard. No baby doggie you can't tear up my box." I swoop in, grab the baby, risk my fingers being bitten to pull the cardboard out of her mouth. Which she only reluctantly gives up, trying to keep her mouth clamped tight so I can't take her treasure.
I put her on the other side of the room with her toys, grab the Gibson by his collar and throw him outside and then clean up the mess before anymore Babies can eat any more cardboard.
But in that brief moment, I saw it. They were working together. Co-conspirators. Their friendship cemented over the shared victory of a dead cardboard box.
From that moment she starts to follow him around, crawling after him as he walks through the house trying to find more good stuff to chew apart.
When he's on one side of the gate and she's on the other, she will try to reach him. Pet him. Pull his ears.
The Babies both like to chew on shoes. Yuck!
They both go and go and go until they pass out. But never at bedtime. No, The Babies don't like to sleep when they're supposed to.
He likes to sit patiently under her high chair and wait for her to drop her food. Wait until she realizes what he's doing, then I know she'll throw him food on purpose. Or wait until he's big enough to put his muzzle on her tray while she eats...maybe, Gibson needs to be thrown outside when I feed her.
Now, he better just stop pulling her toys out from the diaper bag before she realizes that he's searching for a new chew toy or their newly found friendship pact might be over.
In the meantime, I only was able to write this blog because BOTH Babies are sleeping...after waking up every few hours last night. So of course they're sleeping now. When it's morning...when it's time to be up.